The Jumper-Man
by Mein Benutzername
Summary: Vandalizing was what Timmy did. With his trusty spray paint in hand, he had gotten away with numerous counts of "illegal" messages scrawled on the sides of buildings and trash bins - and boxes - alike. How was he supposed to know the blue one was any different?


The Jumper-Man

A Doctor Who Story

_Written by A Humble Reader_

_Note: Some musing on the side and a rewatch of the 9th Doctor's season gave me some ideas. Please enjoy, and leave a review if you deem me worthy._

Timmy scowled at the blue box in front of him. This was so _stupid. _Dipping his rag back in the sudsy mess swirling around the bucket beside him, he shot a glare at the kid sitting on the trashcan across the alley. The weird old man in the jumper had left him out there to keep an eye on him, to make sure he finished wiping the large "BAD WOLF" he had spray painted on there earlier.

How was he supposed to know this big old box belonged to someone? It was just sitting in an alley, it looked abandoned! Besides, who even _owned _a _box _and got _mad _when a kid came along and spray painted it?

Personally, he thought the box looked less stupid with the words on it anyway. Stupid jumper man. Stupid newspaper reading guy that sat on trashcans.

Now that Timmy thought about it, he didn't even know why he had spray painted the stupid thing anyway. Besides, BAD WOLF? What was that about? Was that a band he had heard of or something? ...Yeah, that was probably it.

Timmy furrowed his brow in concentration as he scrubbed furiously. The box was weird, too, just like the man who owned it. For some reason it was _humming. _Maybe it was some kind of portable heater or something. Or well...glancing up at the top of the box, he concentrated for a minute to make out the words. (His reading was still pretty bad - but who needed to read, anyway?)

POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX

Timmy frowned again and resumed scrubbing. A phone box? For the police? Why was it blue? The police's uniforms were black. And besides! The jumper-man didn't look like part of the police. He was too...odd. Timmy bet the police would lock him up if he spoke three words to 'em. That's how strange the man was. It took three words to tell the guy was mad!

Some crazy stuff like _time vortexes _and _solar storms _and _the multihedral plexiconductor won't connect to the sythesizer and it's causing errors in the blue photometric manipulator._

Deciding he'd rather not be murdered my a madman who owned a blue police box and spoke about pretend things, Timmy began scrubbing more vigorously. The jumper-man was definitely crazy. And kind of terrifying. (He scared Timmy half to death when he grabbed him on his way home and told him to come and clean up his mess.) But...there was also something interesting about the fellow. Timmy couldn't say what it was.

Was it his box? His jumper? His big old elephant ears?

Timmy wasn't sure. One thing he was sure of, for some reason, was that the jumper-man was not to be trifled with. He was interesting, yes. But he was crazy. And he was scary.

Normally, those two things alone would've sent his survival instincts into overdrive. After all, one didnt get away with vandalizing buildings and cars without having some sense of self preservation. But at the same time, the jumper-man felt...safe. Like, as long as you were good, he was safe. He was safety itself. He would protect you at all costs, _nothing _could get you if he was there...

But if you did something bad, then you should run. If you did something he didn't like...then you were dead. _Run. _Then that would be your _only _chance.A chill crawled up and down Timmy's spine as he finished cleaning the last of the "w" off of the box. As if somehow knowing he was done, the jumper-man came outside of his box (what was he even doing in there?) And slapped the newly cleaned wall, telling him to run off, and that he didn't want to see him doing that again. He sounded a little teasing, but with enough of a warning in his voice to let Timmy know he was serious. For a moment, Timmy thought maybe all of his apprehension was for nothing. Maybe he was just shaken up about being caught.

But when Timmy caught his eyes, he saw it.

He saw _all of it._

Timmy didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge him, or his friend. He just grabbed the pail and ran, as fast as he could, as faraway as he could possibly get.

Timmy didn't know exactly who or what the jumper-man was, or what he did, or what he had done, or what had been done to him. All he did know, however, was that he wanted nothing to do with it.

No, he wanted nothing to do with someone who had eyes like that.


End file.
